Asphyxiation
by Lys
Summary: This isn’t what it should feel like, being unable to breathe. Tim knew what that was like, and this wasn’t it." (Tim-centric, bit of Kon.)


**Asphyxiation**  
Lys Summers 

**as·phyx·i·ate**. (as·phyx·i·at·ed, as·phyx·i·at·ing, as·phyx·i·ates.) - verb.  
_1)To cause asphyxia in; smother or choke.  
2) To undergo asphyxia; suffocate._

**as·phyxi·ation** - noun.  
_1) The condition of being derprived of oxygen (as by having breathing stopped)._

_**oxoxo**_

His sight was beginning to blur – colours starting to bleed together at the edges of his vision in a rather psychedelic fashion, and Tim wondered vaguely if this is what an acid trip felt like. Head fuzzy, feeling so disconnected from his body, hearing nothing but the increasingly fast pounding of blood in his ears. It was all rather funny, in fact, but when he opened his mouth to laugh – and if he had of been able to, he's sure it would have sounded rather hysterical, really – he was swiftly reminded of the reason for his current giddy state, as his soundlessly moving lips were unable to encourage any air into his lungs past the fist clenched tightly around his neck.

It was confusing. This isn't what it should feel like, being unable to breathe. He knew what that was like, and this wasn't it. That feeling belonged in the cold, dark halls of his old manor house; it was Tim having to tiptoe and hide and lie to keep The Secret, afraid that if he got too relaxed, breathed too deeply, something would slip and his father and Dana would suddenly just Know.

It could be more like suffocation, perhaps, but that, too, wasn't right. Tim knew, intimately, what smothering was like – so well that if someone were to hold a pillow to his face he might just shrug and say 'What's new?' Well, he wouldn't usually, but right now it seemed as good a sentiment as any. Not caring… not caring was what led to his suffocation, in a way. When he hung up the suit and suddenly things weren't his _problem_ anymore, because he had a normal life and he was a normal kid, but all the fake smiles and all the watching – the bed checks, the suspicious glances, the rules, the walls, the rules – that was suffocation, that was being smothered. Never this.

The colours were gone, then. No more red and yellow and green and black – no costume, no colours, no Robin. Just Tim

There weren't any colours right now, either. The world seemed grey-tinged. The light was fading. Maybe he was fading too? No colours, no Robin. Wait – that wasn't right. Maybe he meant no Tim? He had no _time_. He _was_ Robin, and that's why he was here, not breathing; no, suffocating; no…

Not choking, either. That hand couldn't be choking the colours away, now could it? What Tim remembered of choking was nothing _but_ the colours, really. The white of his father's face, and the red of the blood, and Tim was shaking and choking as the sobs caught in his throat, while fingertips were scraped raw as he grasped fruitlessly at black Kevlar… And it didn't matter what he said, because he was alone – and that cold, empty feeling rose in his throat and choked him up, too.

He felt cold now, just like before. And he was so tired of not being able to breathe, of suffocating and choking and whatever this was and maybe, maybe he should just let –

He let go.

Not Tim, not him, he couldn't have – because now all he felt was a hard floor beneath him and heard a dim roaring in his ears, though he couldn't see much of anything, yet. But slowly it came back, vision fuzzy like his mind, and there was a red and black and blue blur fighting with something darker, and Tim knew that this all had to make sense _somewhere_, but that place certainly wasn't in his own head.

And so he lay there, eyes closed because that way the pretty lights wouldn't spin, and tried to pick up the pieces of his scattered thoughts because he felt that maybe there was something broken…

Until everything shifted once again as he felt the ground lurch, and suddenly there was warmth around him, shaking him, and a loud voice intruding that made Tim not so sleepy anymore.

"Robin! God, man, wake the hell up, what were you _thinking_? Why weren't you fighting, Christ dude, wake the _fuck_ up now, okay?"

Gathering up his willpower Tim forced open his eyes, lashes fluttering once, twice, before things cleared up enough so that he was looking up at Kon and the rather frantic expression plastered onto his face.

"Oh god, _Tim_..."

And he realized that he could breathe again.

**_oxoxo_**

If you don't quite get the reason for the last line, no, it's not because "OMG KON IS THERE." (Though the slash fangirl in me screams for that!) Try to figure out what all Tim's flashbacks have in common, then put together how Kon's words would bring him to the realization that it was over.


End file.
